


Don't Call Me Angel

by sunsetude



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Currently on hold but will be back, Dialogue Heavy, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Everything, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-10-25 13:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetude/pseuds/sunsetude
Summary: Kun had always liked to think he had it all under control, running an agency, pretending like everything was fine, avoiding his own feelings- he was good at that sort of thing. At least he was until their newest transfers decided to throw a spanner in the works.





	1. Hey One Question: What The Hell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More information can be found here regarding this au (character profiles, updates and some more fun stuff) 

“I do  _ not  _ need some six-foot, macho-man,  _ babysitter,  _ Kun. I think I’ve made it perfectly clear I can take care of myself and we both know I work better alone.”

“Ten, when I came over last night I found you crying on the sofa with an almost empty bottle of  _ expensive  _ white wine over Grey’s Anatomy. You cannot take care of yourself.”

“Derek  _ died  _ Kun,  _ gone _ ,  _ dead _ ,  _ never  _ coming back! He left Meredith alone,  _ and  _ she’s pregnant! Think of the babies! Anyone with a heart would find that upsetting.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have a heart then,” Kun tisked, “And seriously, what is your obsession with babies? Can you move on from that soon—you keep mentioning them around Taeyong and he keeps whining about how cute they are too. Babies are weird, squishy things, they are not  _ cute _ . They cry and scream and you can’t just leave them to their own devices. It’s so  _ irritating _ .”

“Jesus, you’re such a bitch. You’re my best friend and I love you but  _ god  _ Kun, you can be so  _ mean _ . But we’re getting off topic—I don’t need a damn bodyguard!”

“He’s not some bodyguard or babysitter Ten, he’s going to be your  _ partner _ —your equal, if you will.” Kun stood up from his seat and walked around his desk to lean against it, gaze firm and business face on. “The two of you will be working  _ together _ . He happens to be extremely skilled in the combat side of things and yes, he is much taller than you and appearance-wise he seems more fitting to the role. And his looks match your work a little more than yours do. He’s ex-military, his file says a Navy SEAL if I recall correctly. He will make sure you stay out of trouble while you charm and flirt your way through missions. He will allow me to guarantee—or at least somewhat reassure—your safety.”

Kun was known for his sternness, but his expression changed from his usual furrowed brows—void of any other emotion—to his softer, gentler smile that Ten only gets to see when they’re off the clock.

“I sincerely apologise that I’m disrupting your usual conduct Ten, but I won’t apologise for wanting to make sure you’re safe. After what happened with Sicheng, neither me nor Taeyong are willing to take any risks when it comes to the safety of our agents. Even Doyoung is being assigned a partner for his field work. Taeyong is letting him know later, and so I give it—” Kun paused to give a quick glance to his watch and then the clock ticking against the wall. “—about forty minutes until the coffee table in the reception is smashed into several hundred thousand pieces,  _ again _ . Remind me to ask Jungwoo to order a new one when we’re finished.”

Ten let out a soft chuckle, “I’m sorry too, by the way.” Ten took a deep breath, his voice was much quieter than normal, almost as if he was embarrassed. “I get where you’re coming from, I’m just not used to working with any other people aside from Doyoungie or Hendery in my ear, let alone working with anyone in the flesh. The only person I ever had as a partner was you, way back when we were still rookies.” Kun flashed him a small smile in return, an acknowledgement of some sorts of their rookie days. The days before Kun left. 

“It’s going to be an adjustment, but I think it’s a good thing. Frankly, even though you probably won’t see it at first, you and Youngho will get along great. He’s coming from a placement in Berlin. He was originally part of the European branch actually, and he’s also bringing three other agents with him—Jung Yoonoh, Lee Donghyuck and Liu Yangyang. I’m not sure what code names they’re being assigned as of yet. Youngho is fluent in both Korean and English, and apparently his Mandarin isn’t terrible so you can pick what you like but keep in mind who your in-ear is. Don’t speak in a language they don't understand. That will remain the rule.”

“You mean if my in-ear is, for some reason, not Hendery or even Mark. You do know that there’s been only one case out of the four hundred and ninety-six missions I’ve worked where my in-ear hasn’t been one of them? And while we’re on that, please never assign Jeno to me again—he was awful  _ but _ , in all fairness, I think he was just scared of telling me what to do.” Kun rolled his eyes at the fact Ten has memorised his exact number of missions and watches as Ten had visibly relaxed once again, kicking his feet up onto the arm of the sofa he was lounging on. His eyes widened as he tried to remember the information Kun had told him. “Wait, European? Kun did you finally find me the hot British agent of my dreams? I’m ready for my romancing. Okay, that’s a lie, but who knows.” He shrugged.

“No. I don’t know the logistics of how he ended up in Europe but he’s American, from Chicago—the place that, according to him and a quick google search, has really good pizza and is always windy. I wasn’t really interested in his life story, I was more interested in his stats on his transfer application. If it’s any consolation, Irene and Seulgi swear by him—gave him glowing references from their time in Paris and said he’s easy on the eyes, whatever that means.”

“Ah, Kun  _ dearest _ ,” his voice dripping with sarcasm at the added endearment, “How would you rate his attractiveness?”

“I don’t know, Ten, I don’t pay attention to these things. Besides, I’ve yet to meet him in the flesh. I’ve only seen the pictures from his profile that were provided.”

“Bullshit! Just because you’re all work-focussed and don’t spend time on tinder doesn’t mean you can’t objectively determine if someone is attractive or not. What do our years of friendship get me if you can’t even tell me whether or not he’s ‘future partner with mutually beneficial relations material?’”

The apples of Kun’s cheeks turned rosy at that, a light blush washing over him as he visibly stiffened slightly. Ten always found it amusing that even with their years of friendship and his own distinct lack of a filter, when it came to most discussions—particularly his nonchalant approach to sex and the attractiveness of someone—Kun would flush instantly like you’d just caught him with his pants down. Unfortunately, Ten knew exactly how Kun reacted to being seen with his pants down, a price that comes with having been friends for many years and Ten’s old habit of showing up at Kun’s apartment unannounced. It’s safe to say Ten avoided him for several weeks after the incident, and now he always makes sure to knock or text.

“He—” Kun faltered, “—I guess, objectively speaking of course, I might agree that he’s attractive. Although he seems like a romantic so don’t get your hopes up.  _ God _ , I need a drink before I talk about this with you and the  _ tantrum  _ Doyoung is going to throw—oh dear.”

“No worries, I can help you with that!” Ten jumped up from his seat, walking over to the large bookshelf filling the length of one of the walls of Kun’s office. He rummaged behind several boxes of files before yelling, “Found it!” and returning with a bottle of soju. Kun doesn’t want to know how or when it ended up in his office, but Ten seems to have gained psychic abilities because he counters that, “It’s a need-to-know basis and you don’t need to know. But you never know when you might need a bottle. It’s handy to keep one around.”

“Have you got glasses hidden somewhere too?”

“’Fraid not. We do, however, have mugs so that’ll do. Shot glasses are a pain anyway. You have to keep refilling them and with a mug you don’t.” Ten promptly poured the soju, filling the two mugs and whispering “It’s our little secret,” before sitting down once again (with his feet up on the arm rest again, Kun couldn’t help sneer a little—he was a fan of the no shoes on the furniture policy, but Ten doesn’t agree to it at home, so why would Kun expect him to at the office?).

“Stop glaring at me, Kun. I’m not putting my feet down.  _ Now _ , finish what you were saying about my  _ partner _ .”

“I really don’t know much else about him,” Kun sighed, “he requested that two of the other agents also received a transfer and the third was given a non-negotiable transfer. He got into some trouble while in Berlin so they had to pull him immediately, but even  _ I  _ wasn’t given the details. I do know that he speaks Mandarin, so you can have someone else to practice with when you feel like, and I’m sure Xiaojun will be roping him into the Chinese-only nights in no time.”

“Kun, you’re supposed to be the source of all information. How do you know so little? Oh quit it, I  _ know  _ you only know what the profile tells you blah blah blah.”

“You can tease Doyoung about this partner, if that makes you feel any better. I don’t know much about him either but he’s another ex-military poster boy, Yoonoh could pass as a high-end model too. According to Seulgi they call him ‘everyone’s first love’. He has dimples that are apparently ‘ _ to die for _ ’ and if the photos on his profile are anything to go by, he has some rather...  _ prominent  _ abs. Taeyong described them as washboard,” when Kun had asked him to explain, Taeyong had patted the younger’s head and told him that it was late and he was going to head home. “I practically had to wipe the drool off of his face after he spent far too long looking at the pictures attached to the profile. Who even attaches  _ multiple  _ shirtless pictures to their profile? We only need one for identification, not multiple for Taeyong to fawn over.  _ Jesus _ , pass the bottle, would you?”

“Kun it’s not even 5 pm, I think one mug of soju is enough daytime drinking while at work, especially if the new people are arriving today.”

“Need I remind you that I’m your superior, pass the bottle so I can drown out that picture. He kept making jokes about how I never date. I was young and hot once you know? I had fun, I got around, I wasn’t old and boring like I am now.”

“Kun I do  _ not  _ need or want to know how your sex life has deteriorated. I lived next-door to you in college—that’s all I need to know. You’ll find someone when you’re ready. Who knows, maybe you’ve already met them.”

“Have you thought about my offer to live with me or on-base yet? I don’t like the thought of you living alone… not after everything.”

Ten raised his eyebrow at the comment. “I haven’t yet but I’ll think about it.  _ Now _ , tell me about Yoonoh.”

“The only other thing I was told is that he’s supposedly quite the charmer and sweet talker, however he’s always declined any advances made towards him according to Irene. He seems to have a naturally flirtatious personality, though.”

“Ahh, brilliant! Poor Doie is going to fall in love with him so quickly, I can’t  _ wait _ . I hope Yoonoh’s going to flirt with him. He isn’t going to have a clue what to do.” 

“What you’re saying would sound sympathetic or supportive coming from anyone else's mouth, but from yours it just sounds downright sadistic.”

If Kun hadn’t known Ten as long as he had, the eerie smile Ten is currently adorning would’ve been alarming but alas, once you’d known someone long enough, and you’d risked death together and saved one another’s lives more than a handful of times, and a large part of your job involves killing other people, it takes a lot to creep Kun out these days.

“Hey, your forty minutes are up now and no smashed coffee table yet—“

As if someone of a higher power was listening in, the sound of glass shattering echoed through the ground floor of the building along with several screeches from whoever was milling around at the time. This wouldn’t be the last time Doyoung would throw whatever piece of furniture he could get his hands on off the balcony, launching it to the floor below and consistently nailing the coffee table in particular.

“As you were saying Ten?”

Ten pouted and mumbled, “Never mind.”

There was a sheepish knock on the door and Kun yelled a quick come in as a response.

“Sorry to bother you guys, just thought I’d let you know, Kun, but I’m putting the order for a new coffee table in now and a new office chair. Is there anything else you need?”

“No that’s all, thanks Jungwoo.”

“Wait? An office chair too?” Ten sat up a little, waiting for a response.

“Yes, Ten,” Jungwoo sighed, “That’s what Doyoung threw off the balcony—may need to bring a contractor in to fix the dent in the floor, but I think a new table will cover it enough that it doesn’t need to be done anytime soon.”

“I forgot you’ve never actually witnessed Doyoung throwing various belongings off the balcony. The money he costs me is ridiculous.”

“I’ll leave the two of you to it. I doubt it’ll be long before they make their way down. You know what Doyoung’s like.”

“No worries, thanks Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo had only just made it back to his desk where Xiaojun was waiting with a fresh cup of coffee when Doyoung flung Kun’s office door open, bypassing the now sheepish looking Jungwoo and closely followed by an exasperated looking Taeyong.

“For the last time, Taeyong, no! It’s not happening! I work alone,  _ alone _ ! Do I need to spell it out for you? It’s a five-letter word, of which the meaning is to be by oneself, or shall we take the definition from the Oxford Dictionary where they define alone to be: one, without any other people or two, without the help of other people or things.” Doyoung took a second to catch his breath in between sentences, “I don’t need someone looking out for me, I look out for me. I’m  _ the  _ quartermaster, I head up our entire technology department.” 

He jabbed a finger in Taeyong’s direction, “I’m regarded as one of the best amongst all the branches of NCT. Yes, I hacked my profile again to look. You really should get someone to make it less easy—oh wait, you _can’t _because I’m the only one who can because it’s _my _job. I am _not _some newbie field agent who doesn’t know how to reload a handgun in less than ten seconds. You made me go through the training just like everyone else, I can tell you that I did not engage in hand to hand combat on a daily basis with Lucas for shits and giggles. No one trains with Lucas for fun aside from Renjun but its _Renjun_. That kid scares me, he may be pint-sized but if Ten has taught me anything, the short ones can bite and they usually have high pain thresholds but not-so high patience and I’m not ready to die _just _yet. Honestly, I’m getting a tad concerned at the number of people we employ that appear very cute but just happen to be capable of snapping your neck or blowing your head off.”

“Are you done yet?” Taeyong sighed, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. He was fully aware that Doyoung wasn’t  _ actually  _ angry, he wasn’t death glaring either Taeyong or Kun, and aside from the coffee table no major damage had been caused. It was typical Doyoung, whine until someone gives in.

“No. No, I am not finished. Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Oh my, please continue, Doyoung.  _ Everyone  _ here wants to hear your pathetic complaints.” Ten’s trademark sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Oh Ten, don’t act like you weren’t whining to Kun about this less than an hour ago.”

“At least I haven’t been bitching to Taeyong for an hour and thrown a fucking chair. You can be so dramatic Doyoungie.”

“Dramatic? Me? Have you met yourself?”

“Both of you, be quiet!” It was rare of Kun to yell at someone, to be angry with them—let alone full-fledged shouting in the confines of his office. “Taeyong, please may you check with Jungwoo on when the new agents will be here? Ten and Doyoung can join the meeting as well if they stop insisting on acting like  _ children _ . Apparently, they seem to have forgotten that we may all be friends here, but while we’re at work, I am their superior and what I say is final.”

“Sorry to interrupt again Kun, but the new agents are here. Xiaojun is with them in the conference room and asked me to get you as soon as possible. He seems to find them rather intimidating.”

“Right, nevermind Taeyong and thank you Jungwoo, we’ll be right there. You and Xiaojun can feel free to head home. I’ll need just one of you to round up whoever’s still hovering and point them in the direction of the dorms—I don’t want to be interrupted when we give them the tour. Have a nice evening, and I will see you tomorrow.”

“Will do, thank you. I’ll be in for the conference with Japan first thing in the morning. See you then!” With a meek half-smile, he hurried out of the office once again. Jungwoo wasn’t a stranger to the tension of the office, so he knew very well that Kun rarely shouted, and he wasn’t for testing his patience.

“Okay then. Do you two still want to act like toddlers with your whining? Or can we all go and introduce ourselves to the new agents with the manners and respect we would expect to receive from anyone else?”

“Yes, Kun. Sorry, Kun.” They both mumbled simultaneously, standing up and straightening their clothes.

“Ready, Yong?”

“After you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, let me know your thoughts or just come scream your thoughts at me on twitter, either way works  
The biggest thank you to Anne the most wonderful beta who puts up with my awful grammar, plot holes and tense inconsistencies and still finds the time to leave lovely comments (literally the biggest hug in the world because WOW an utter gem I tell you)  
anyways, see you soon (hopefully)


	2. No Worries, Pretty-Boy Isn't Dead, At Least Not Yet Anyway

_ **3 months ago: Undisclosed Location, Berlin, 2300 hours ** _

The music filled Yangyang’s ears as he pushed his way through the club, the deep base vibrating through him. Blazing neon lights that were far too bright but luckily not enough to blind him. They were just brighter than the usual bluelight of his own computer monitors he was far too accustomed to—probably a testament to how long he spent out of touch with the real world. He shoved his way through the sweaty bodies, past a passionate couple making out, and through countless people dancing and grinding in the middle of the dance floor.

He made his way past another couple who were close to removing each others clothes in a public space and finally reached the door hidden amongst the outdated paneling of the clubs walls. Reciting a small, silent prayer that no one was waiting for him on the other side, he tugged the phone from his back pocket, pressing it against the reader and feeling for the small click of the door. He smiled to himself as it slid open with his touch. 

It revealed a much smaller space, lined with shelves storing case files and several other doors. As Yangyang let the main door lock behind him, two women turned from where they were organising files. Given the disarray, the files seemed to have been misplaced (or rather purposefully pulled off the shelves in haste). The shorter of the two turned around, her stern expression turning into a bright smile upon seeing him. The taller one sighed, placing one of the boxes back onto the shelf and flashing him a reluctant smile in lieu of a greeting. Yangyang shot them a cheeky grin, hoping that might soften their reactions, considering he wasn’t exactly supposed to be here without permission.

Yangyang had always liked Yeri, she was sweet and never got _ too _ mad at his numerous pranks when they were both in training. Yeri had a megawatt smile, she was always the mood maker of their little group back in the day—or rather she was the only one who put up with his bullshit. Yangyang knew he wasn’t the most likeable of people, maybe it came with the job or maybe he was just born this way. The two were close enough for terms of endearment at least, he couldn’t remember the last time Yeri had actually called him Yangyang—she’d cited it too boring for someone as ‘colourful’ as himself. 

Seulgi, on the other hand, rarely used to give Yangyang the time of day. She was one of the (many) people Yangyang couldn’t get along with, no matter how hard either of them tried to act civil. In reality, they cared about each other deeply, but they were too invested in the love-hate dynamic they’d formed for themselves at this point. He’d never admit it, but Seulgi had been integral in him not being kicked out of their training programme (on multiple occasions). Frankly, Yangyang had thought he’d known everything as a wide-eyed fifteen year old, and Seulgi had been his wake-up call. _ Maybe_, he really was quicker (and slightly better) at hacking than her now, but Seulgi was an honourable legend in her own right, and not someone Yangyang ever wanted to make an enemy.

“_Really _Yang? You thought you’d actually be able to get in here without anyone noticing you?”

“Sometimes I like to get my hopes up and think you’ll leave this place empty for me, for once, Yeri.” He said dryly, “I’m an optimistic man occasionally.”

Seulgi let out a hum of disapproval. “How many times am I going to have to tell you that as long as I’m still working here, no one will be giving you clearance? This place is above your pay grade Yangyang, _ heck, _ it’s practically above mine, you _ know _you’re not allowed here anymore. Even Yeri won’t be giving you access anytime soon as long as she values both her job and her freedom.” Yeri shot him an apologetic look, like she always did, and Yangyang would return it with a quick smile. 

‘This place’ was their hideout, their home away from home. Yangyang had always hated how in spy movies everything was kept in one building, every server, every file, all in one place—perfectly in reach for all the wrong hands. Hence, they made The Bunker, appropriately named to match the fairly dodgy nightclub you had to go through in order to get to it, a free defence system consisting of hundreds of drunk, sweaty and horny young adults, dancing questionably to music Yangyang has never heard before and frankly never wanted to hear again. It wasn’t, by any means whatsoever, a place of luxury. It only had four rooms (including the bathroom because _ god _ they weren’t going to use the club toilets, they valued their health too much for that), and the vinyl flooring with wrought-iron shelving units made it look like some retro aesthetic anime (only it didn’t have the same appeal as anime did).

The Bunker’s computer room was arguably one of Yangyang’s favourite places in existence. It was monitors galore, and he was free to use government resources to download the latest video games without getting in trouble with the boss (well sort of, but that wasn’t important). It stored everything from the latest computer technology (fit with the drones Seulgi was currently working on and the GPS tracking system Yangyang has been developing for the company’s cars)—largely developed by Seulgi and Yangyang themselves—to computers older than Yangyang (and probably Seulgi herself too). It mixed 90s nostalgia with a 21st century lifestyle and to Yangyang, it almost felt like home, or at least as close to a home that he’d ever felt. 

Since it’d become the company’s go to case file and private mission base, Yangyang’s access had been removed and now he was stuck with either attempting to get past the security system (aka Yeri and Seulgi) or making ‘work-related’ visits.

“Why are you here, Yangyang? You always want _ something _ whenever you’re here.” Seulgi always loved to sugarcoat her words, never one to shy away from sharing her usually unwanted opinions in saccharine ways. 

“Just wanted to do a little searching… look a couple people up. You know, uh—work stuff.”

“Real convincing there Yangie.”

“You can’t say I don’t try Yeri.”

Seulgi rolled her eyes, walking past Yangyang to sit at her desk. She huffed as she sat down, “You should know by now. He’s one step ahead of you Yangyang.” Yangyang didn’t hear the latter part, too muffled as she said it under her breath—_ He’s always one step ahead of you _.

“Taking a wild guess that you mean he’s already dropped by then?”

“Stop acting like he came in for a cuppa and left, Yangyang. Grow up. He knows who you are, he isn’t _ stupid _. There are people out there who can outsmart you, Yangyang, no matter how much you like to delude yourself.”

Yangyang rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Fine. While I’m here, then, can you at least help me out?”

Seulgi raised a sharp, clean-cut eyebrow at him. “And why should we?”

“Who else is going to background check and hack the Instagram profiles of your Tinder dates?”

“I—What do you need?”

“I would_ like _ all the info you have on him.”

“Why?” Her tone wasn’t questioning—more bored and patronising than anything. “Can’t you just hack us and get it instead?”

Yangyang pouted. “Jihyo told me I’m not _ allowed _ to do that anymore. She said something about hacking your colleagues not being appropriate.”

“Jesus christ, Yangyang. I was _ joking _ . Honestly, I’m concerned at how much unauthorised hacking you do, you're going to end up in so much shit one day.” _ Not that you haven’t already goes unsaid. _

“Look, just help me? _ Please _ ? I can’t tell the others—I may have gone a little _ rogue _ on this one. I can’t let them know I’ve made a mistake.” See, Yangyang knew he could be arrogant, that he could be a little cocky. But it wasn’t _ entirely _ unjustified. He was good, one of the best in fact. _ But_, to be a good hacker you needed to always follow the rules.

_ Rule number one: Never give information to another hacker—they know how to use it and you won’t know when, where, or how they may strike. _

Yangyang had slipped up, he’d revealed his face, maybe even his real name. He was running against the clock and there wasn’t long until there was no time left. Not that he knew that. 

As stubborn as Seulgi was (and still is), she couldn’t say no to Yangyang. With slight reluctance, she motioned Yangyang to follow her, walking towards another door and leading them to the computer room. Seulgi stopped just outside the door, earning a confused noise from Yangyang, which she rolled her eyes at. She leant down slightly, sliding a panel to reveal a reader, a small red beam of light coming from it, scanning her eye. _ Well, that was new. _

The door clicked open softly and Seulgi stepped in, Yangyang eagerly close. Seulgi sat at her usual desk, typing for a few minutes, searching through what Yangyang assumed must be the file directory. The system could search through hundreds or even thousands of names, and Yangyang wondered just how many belonged to _ him._

“Right, here we are. I’ll print this out as a file for you.” Seulgi hesitated slightly before hitting print, her face showing signs of worry Yangyang was unfamiliar with. “You know, he’s going to come after you. Especially once he guesses you’ve come here. I’m surprised he hasn’t found you yet. Please, _ please _ be careful, okay?” The worry was gone, quickly replaced by her usual stern expression. Yangyang rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“He’s got a few different personas at the minute so it will feel like you’re watching over several different people. He went through a lot to cover himself up. He knew we still had files on him, but I think he knew better than to try and get them. He just asked for your file, so I gave him your mandatory one and not your _ actual _ file. As far as he knows, your name is really Liu Yangyang, you were born in Taiwan, grew up in Germany and your parents are a nice eldery couple living at the edge of the city. Only use this wisely—we wouldn’t have this kind of information if he wasn’t one of ours. His entire personnel file is there, everything from his first training session right up to whatever went so horribly wrong in China.”

“Don’t worry Seulgi, I know what I’m doing.”

Seulgi walked over to the printer, grabbing the stack of papers and putting them in a case file, stamped with the NCT logo. She smiled teasingly as she moved it out of Yangyang’s grasp when he went to take it, causing them both to laugh softly. She handed it over, then turned back to the computer. When she caught a glimpse of the screen, her eyes went wide and she quickly turned the monitors off. Yangyang didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and he didn’t see the wary look Yeri had shot Seulgi from across the room. 

“Stay safe, Yangyang. He’ll find you sooner or later.”

“Don’t worry about me Seulgi, it’s not good for your frown lines,” he said, smiling up at her as he moved towards the door. “I’ll be fine, I always am. Thank you for the files, it uh, it means a lot.”

Yangyang slipped out the door, merging with the crowded dance floor once again after bidding the two good bye and another ‘stay safe’ from Seulgi. He found his way back out into the bustling city, file in hand, sauntering through the crowded streets—humming the song that had gotten stuck in his head from the radio.

Yeri shut the door behind him after wishing him to keep safe, clicking the lock in place. It was only then that Seulgi started the monitors again. The centre monitor glared red, the letters blatant and bold across the screen. “Yeri? You better take a look at this.” Yeri felt her heart drop upon seeing the words:

> ** _‘You can’t protect him any longer. Stop delaying the inevitable.’_ **

** ** _ Yangyang had broken rule number one. And there’s always a price to pay. _

** _11 days ago: Berlin headquarters, 1100 hours_ **

** **

Not that they’d ever admit it, but both Donghyuck and Yangyang had always been somewhat afraid of Johnny. Johnny was not a bad person by any means but when he kept a sharp watch over the two and just about everything they did. With him breathing down their necks every time they made one wrong move, it was hard not to be at least a _ little _afraid, even if they knew how soft he really was.

Yangyang was fiddling with his drones when Donghyuck had come to bother him in his lab, whining about how he was bored. Apparently there was nothing to do. Donghyuck was always bored, though, unless he had his hands around someone’s neck or a weapon of his choosing—preferably aimed at someone he didn't like (or even ones he did, he wasn’t picky). 

Yangyang had eventually given into the elder’s persistent efforts to do _ something _ and they’d ended up in a _ very _serious mario kart tournament.

“_Seriously _? Video games at work? Again?” Johnny sighed as he entered the lab, dressed sharply (as always) in black slacks and a navy dress shirt, pen tucked behind his ear. If Yangyang hadn’t known any better he’d think Johnny was a teacher or some other mundane nine-to-five.

“It’s an important method of blowing off steam _ and _ increasing our tactile skills— _ and _ you know, team bonding or whatever,” Donghyuck flashes a cheeky grin and shrugged before turning his attention back to the paused TV screen.

“I don’t have the time to argue with you. Jihyo called, there’s a new mission.”

“See ya later, Donghyuck.”

“No, for the both of you.”

“Me?” Yangyang gulped.

Donghyuck gave Johnny a puzzled look. “_Him _?”

“Yes you too Yangyang, come on. We’re going to be late.”

Yangyang always hated being out of the basement, out of his lab and heading into the actual offices. Walking across the marble floors of the NCT Europe building made Yangyang feel small and unworthy. It was always bustling with employees dressed sharply in suits or dresses, busy on their phones or tablets, chatting away into their ear pieces and not looking at the real world for longer than split-second.

Yangyang was used to his lab, he was cosy there, it was practically his second home–although he arguably spent more time there than he did in his bed. It’d been a while since his last mission, never usually having to emerge for a briefing. No one said it explicitly, but it was clear it was the best way to keep Yangyang out of trouble. He worked on little things, a quick '_can you get this document' _ here and there, occasionally acting as a guide when someone was off sick, usually he was left to his own devices in the safety of the basement. In all honesty, Yangyang didn’t really like missions. It still felt a little out of his depth. He didn’t like the unexpected—the way anything could go wrong at any minute and he didn’t have some sort of safety net to fall back on. 

His trainers squeaked across the polished floor and his hoodie had a toothpaste stain from where he was _ almost _ late this morning. He especially hated Jihyo’s office, walking up the stairs to the third floor and coming face to face with the frosted glass door, ‘ _ Park Jihyo, Head of Branch’ _ engraved on the gold plaque by the side of it. Everything about it exuded expensive and clean-cut—not somewhere Yangyang ever felt like he belonged. Especially not side by side with Donghyuck who was wearing the same t-shirt he had been at dinner last night, made decorative by whatever sauce stains and gunshot residue he’d managed to acquire. 

“Ah, there you are! Come in, come in. I’ve been waiting for you.” Jihyo smiled as they entered. Irene stood next to her, flashing them a quick smile. Irene was once a top field agent before stepping back and working as second in command and their police liaison. Irene had saved his ass one too many times at this point, always the one who picked him up from the police station after he got caught underground racing, _ again _. Officer Junmyeon didn’t bother to give Yangyang his one call anymore. Ringing Irene himself made it easier—he even had her number on speed dial. Between Irene, Seulgi and Johnny, Yangyang had formed a slightly dysfunctional family, but one he could always count on. 

“So,” Irene says in lieu of formalities as she walked over to the projector screen, “As you are aware, there have been several mafia groups in the city lately. Setting up more illegal races, underground gambling rings, drug suppliers—the list goes on. With the help of interpol, we’ve been able to track one of the heads, goes by the pseudonym Lay, birth name Zhang Yixing. He was caught on camera being in possession of government military plans, including the details regarding the whereabouts of nuclear weapons. Your mission is to infiltrate the mafia at an engagement tomorrow evening, retrieving the documents successfully. 

“As always, we expect you to remain undercover at all times. To limit the chances of your cover being blown, we will only be sending the three of you in. Jaehyun will remain here at base, ready to step in if needed but he has other assignments he’s currently occupied with.”

“Any information on what we’re getting ourselves into? What we’ll be looking at? I don’t want to be sending my team onto an entire estate blindly.”

“Of course Johnny.” Jihyo switched the screen, fiddling with the location maps before turning her attention back to them, “Their base of operations is an estate at the edge of the city with Mr Zhang’s home and several outbuildings, one of which has been determined as the server room. We believe Mr Zhang will have destroyed the paper copies of the plans and instead uploaded them to their private databases. Good news for us is the server building is accessible by three-factor authentication–retinal scan, fingerprint and pin code.”

Irene placed a file on the table in front of Johnny. “You’ll be able to enter the compound under the premise of being a waiter and guests at the upcoming event they are holding. It’s some fancy birthday party with far too many people on the guest list to keep track of at all times—one or two more would go unnoticed.”

“Anything else you need me to override? Security cameras, alarms, heat sensors?” 

“They have a small security camera system which Dahyun will be able to take out from here with the help of Donghyuck. Johnny and Haechan will take out and guide you through the armed guards around the compound.”

“Any questions?” Jihyo paused, looking at them closely for the slightest hint of confusion or misunderstanding, “Well then.” She clapped her hands once, a bright smile on her face, “Looks like you have a party to get ready for. You’re dismissed.”

_ ** 9 days ago: Zhang Estate, Berlin, 2000 hours** _

“My, _ my _Johnny. Don’t you dress up nice, all suited and booted,” Donghyuck laughed, greatly amused by his own comment. 

“Shut it Haechan, we have work to do. Are you in position?”

“Yep. I’m loving my new job as a waiter, these hors d'oeuvres are delicious and the wine collection in this place is exquisite. Gotta give it to Zhang, he knows what he’s doing when it comes to caterers.”

“_ Jesus. _Focus on your work, please,” Johnny huffed, “Yangyang? Are you in position?”

“Hold on a second. Ah, _ fuck_, that wire is hot.” 

“Yangyang?”

“I said hold on. Right! The security cameras were done already thanks to Dahyun, I’m past the pin and fingerprint measures but damn, this is one tough retina scan.” 

“I’m fairly certain Johnny would tell you to take your time, but there’s currently some eighty year old cougar fawning over him. Also, hurry up, I can’t deal with rich old men anymore, I swear every single one of these guys has called me _ darlin’ _ or _ babe _and I need a very long, very hot shower. Haven’t seen Lay himself yet, only his little entourage. So watch your back. Have to say, some of them are very attractive, but they cannot understand a word I’m saying. I might need to take you up on those Mandarin lessons.” 

“Haechan, I say this with as much kindness as possible, please, shut the fuck up for five minutes.”

“Someone’s stressy. Remind me to bug you about that later,”

“Why would I—you know what,” Yangyang sighs, “nevermind.”

Donghyuck managed to keep quiet for all of three and a half minutes before pestering Yangyang for an update again. Muttering his name in a sing-song tone repeatedly—exactly how he knows Yangyang hates it the most.

“Can you stop humming, fucking hell. I’m through the retinal scan and heading to the server now.”

“Ah, yay! That means you’re free to chit-chat, I’m hanging out in some store cupboard checking the security cameras, you’re all clear _ by the way _.” Donghyuck adds as an afterthought.

“Not exactly in the mood for chit-chat, I’m trying to work, unlike _ someone. _” Yangyang mutters dryly under his breath.

“Would you stop being so bloody snarky all the time, you know I can hear you, right? Like the mic is attached to you, you don’t make it difficult to hear.”

“That’s the point.”

“How is that the point? The point seems like you’re purposefully trying to annoy me and—”

“Haechan, pipe down, we’ve got an, uh, a _ problem _.”

“What kind of problem? Like a gun to your back kind of problem or a you’ve split your trousers problem?”

“More like a gun to your back…”

“Jesus wept Yangyang, just tell me what's wrong.”

“The files aren’t here.”

“What? I must’ve misheard you, it sounded like you said the files aren’t there?”

“Because that's what I _ said _, there are no files here. They’re gone, someone has already been here. We’ve been beaten to the punch.” Yangyang chooses not to tell Donghyuck about the small V blinking at him from the screen. It’s the same V he's all too familiar with at this point in time, having become closely acquainted with it during the last three months.

“_Fuck. _”

“Shit, someones here, I gotta go.”

“Be care—” Donghyuck didn’t have time to respond before Yangyang cut his coms off.

༓࿇༓

It’s probably stupid of Yangyang to follow the man out the door. In fact, he _ knows _ it’s stupid but that doesn’t seem to stop him. He’s always been a little impulsive and this time isn’t any different. He knows the man isn’t one of Yixing’s. Why would someone be dressed like they’d walked in off the street if they were? Everything about Yixing screamed expensive (and more than likely stolen, but not the point)—from his freshly-pressed suits to the cars gracing the driveway. All his security were dressed to the nines, not a hair out of place and scanning the crowd like their life depended on it (which arguably was the case). 

Yangyang believed the rich and powerful always had secrets to hide, for someone like Zhang it was his illegal dealings and blatant disregard for anything morally or ethically correct. But what could you expect from someone who _ was _ going to sell military plans to the highest bidder? 

He managed to get ahold of Johnny by this point, hastily whispering down the phone that someone had beaten them to the punch and he had eyes on him. It was now or never.

“Target in sight. He’s headed north from my current location. On foot. He seems to be alone, requesting permission to pursue.”

“Granted. Maintain a safe distance from the suspect at all times and call for backup immediately if anything is suspicious.”

“Yes, _ sir _.” 

Johnny tisked at the way Yangyang made his distaste for the formality evident before letting out a hum of acknowledgment.

Yangyang tapped his coms off once again, eyes locking on the target’s retreating figure. He was dressed simply, like any other standard-issue citizen. If Yangyang hadn’t been looking for him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary. After all, he seemed like a normal college-aged kid, not a notorious and skilled hacker who was potentially threatening to reveal government secrets (not the good kind). Although the small metallic briefcase in hand seemed just slightly out of character, but it was something Yangyang knew passersby didn’t give a second thought about. 

He didn’t know any details. That wasn’t in Yangyang’s job description, especially considering they didn’t work for the government (well, not this time around at least)—they were just used as pawns occasionally when their services were required. 

This kid, though, had information that made the best of the best cower. All the _ wrong _ people were afraid, and the kid had world leaders both wanting to kill him and use him—or rather find out how he’d managed to hack into one of the most secure databases in the world and promptly erase him from existence afterwards, be that in a form of their choosing. 

Yangyang tried to tune out his thoughts, focusing on the sound of his own boots against the cobbled pavement of the alleway instead, eyes still trained on his target. The ever-bustling city grew dark when winter’s nights came. The dim light from the sparse street lights were practically useless, barely making much of a difference as the man approached Yangyang. The other thing about Europe in the winter months, it was always so damn cold; Yangyang could sense his hands losing feeling as the minutes passed, and his breath misted in front of him as he frantically attempted to catch his breath. Yangyang had never been a good runner, he was hired under the premise of a techie, somehow managing to pass his field agent exams.

He liked _ cars _ , they were fun. No energy exerted, even when racing, nor did he have to worry about being able to make a quick getaway. He knew where he was at with a car—in his eyes it was just another piece of tech. He’d never particularly enjoyed surrounding himself with people. People that could kill him, anyway, especially people who _ wanted _ to kill him.

Yangyang still didn’t know who it was who did it, but he figured there must have been someone pulling some strings in order for him to become an agent. He hadn’t already entered the training programme like most, he’d been registered under a number of ever-so-slightly (read: extremely) illegal activities, and was faced with a go-to-jail or train-under-NCT-deal. 

Two years later and he still didn’t know how or why he was here now, but frankly, he didn’t fancy the idea of maximum security prison, and Johnny and Jihyo let him have his freedom within reason. Maybe he should have asked more questions, probably should’ve asked _ why him of all people, _ but he was just a kid (is still just a kid) and never gave it a second thought at the time, and it was rare that he even did so now. 

He doesn’t know what it is about the boy that's making him think of it, he tries to rack his brain for any vague feeling of familiarity but he comes up empty.

It’d been a while since Yangyang had done anything like this, especially without someone guiding him by ear. Maybe that's why Yangyang didn’t notice the abrupt change in direction his target took and how suspicious it should have seemed. Yangyang didn’t notice the dead-end sign, or the way they’d approached the outskirts of the city centre, filled with vacant alleyways and flickering street lights. Maybe that was how Yangyang managed to lose him for a moment, eyes being drawn to a beat up car parked up along the side of the road rather than the end of the alleyway. Yangyang spun in his place, squinting into the darkness in an attempt to see where he’d gone. _ Stupid _, Yangyang thought. He couldn’t even keep track of one person, now possibly losing every trace of him all together, along with the briefcase he’d been carrying, the files Yangyang needed, lost for good. Yangyang became all too aware of the blood running through his veins, his heart pounding, echoing all too loudly in his ears, his anxiety beginning to spike as panic set in. 

Before he could begin to comprehend what was happening, Yangyang felt his back press up against the cold stone of the wall behind him. He attempted to step further back to distance himself as he vaguely felt himself getting pushed. Yangyang didn’t know what made him think that would work—he was only getting backed up further and further into the dead end he was currently in. Yangyang _ should’ve _ known better. He _ should’ve _known the target had clocked him, opting to lead him down some dark dingy street where no one was going to find Yangyang’s limp, dead body, beaten to a pulp and surrounded by stray cats.

In the faint light cast from the street lamps, Yangyang could make his out features ever so slightly more so than he could before. Yangyang had assumed he’d be younger, so he was slightly taken aback by his more mature appearance, but that's not what drew Yangyang’s attention. Yangyang couldn’t help but fixate on his features, more of a man than a boy, but undeniably _ pretty _ . He looked almost innocent, if it wasn’t for the fiendish grin on his face, the fiendish grin that makes Yangyang recognise him. And huh, _ funny _, Yangyang thinks. The photos from his file don’t do him justice. In fact, maybe it was the now black hair rather than the platinum blonde from the pictures, but he could barely recognise him. 

Who was once a man known for being cheerful and full of energy, now looked tired and _ broken _ . There were dark bags under his eyes and frown lines beginning to form. He was still _ easily _ the most gorgeous man Yangyang had ever seen, but he couldn’t help but think that behind the snarls, he looks sad. 

For that moment, Yangyang honestly forgets the man is probably trying to kill him.

He fails to notice the swing of a fist, the blow landing directly on his cheek, throwing his head to the side as he lets out a groan. There was taste of iron on his lips as another punch landed square against his jaw, causing him to stagger backwards. Yangyang could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, attempting to activate his fight or flight. 

The briefcase the man had been carrying was tossed just slightly out of reach as he lunged for Yangyang. Yangyang’s eyes followed it intensely because he couldn’t let those files get out into the real world. The man continued to push and tug at Yangyang’s body, landing several kicks to his stomach and diaphragm, making Yangyang gasp for air, feeling like he can’t breathe. Yangyang felt his coms being tugged out and watched as the man crushed them beneath his foot, almost snarling as he did so. 

_Yangyang had no idea about Johnny screaming down the line that they’ve been compromised, that they’re in danger. _

Before Yangyang had time to react there was a punch to his nose. He could feel his eyes watering at the action and he instinctively reached a hand to clutch it as he feels the blood trickling down his face.

Yangyang was able to land the occasional punch in response. But the man was quicker, his combat skills clearly more up to scratch than Yangyang’s. Using his forearm, he pressed Yangyang further into the wall by the neck. Yangyang could feel his throat constricting, could feel himself gasping for air as he pressed harder and harder against him. 

Yangyang struggled against him, pushing back against him as far as his hands could reach. Yangyang managed to kick him in the back of the knee a couple times in an attempt to send him to the floor. 

It was purely the luck of the draw, and Yangyang took a split-second to thank whatever god is watching over him—not that he’s ever been one for praying—that his target-turned-assailant stumbled back, giving Yangyang enough of a window to try and get away. But Yangyang can’t leave the briefcase.

“I’m really sorry about this but I’ve got limited resources. I’m not Haechan. I don’t know how to pull off some death grip thingy—I’m the tech guy for christ’s sake,” Yangyang sighed before swiftly lifting the metal briefcase from the ground and _ tapping it gently _ against the target’s head. He fell to the ground without another word. Yangyang couldn’t help his jaw hanging open, looking at the scene before him. He could feel the warm blood dripping down the side of his face, the ache of his jaw throbbing as the seconds passed, but he was alive and that’s what mattered, _ holy shit, _his head was pounding. 

༓࿇༓

"Yangyang, where the fuck are you? We've gotta go! The mission has been terminated effective immediately."

The line was silent, and Johnny was praying his in-ears had just had a fault, that he had probably just knocked them and he didn’t have anything to worry about. 

“Jihyo? Jihyo are you there?” Johnny’s voice had dropped into something more desperate, almost frantic. He could feel the panic building inside of him. Yangyang was okay. _ He had to be. _

“Johnny? It’s Irene, why are you still on the line? I told you to terminate the mission effective immediately. You should’ve pulled your team out by now.”

“Sorry boss, Yangyang isn’t responding. Maybe his coms are damaged or something, I just—I have a bad feeling.”

“Where was he the last time you reached him?”

“He last checked in when he requested permission to pursue the target on foot. He was the closest, it would’ve taken us fifteen minutes to get to him. He hasn’t responded since, I think his coms are cut out, and we have no precise location.”

“What do you want me to say Johnny? What stupidity do you need me to authorise?”

“Let me go find him. Something’s wrong, he’s an idiot but he wouldn’t turn his coms off, not without checking in… not for this long at least, he’s in trouble. _ I know it. _” 

“Fine. You have my permission but please remember you’ve been compromised. We have no eyes, we can’t guide you through anymore—you’re on your own. This mission is off the books, Johnny. It’s just you and your team.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll keep you updated as much as I can.”

“Good luck, Johnny. Lord knows you’re going to need it.”

Maybe Johnny was overreacting but it wasn’t any run of the mill mission. 

From the moment he let Yangyang go off without backup, he couldn’t help but feel like something was off. It wasn’t like Yangyang to disappear, but as much as Johnny thought that, he couldn’t see any signs of Yangyang having been taken. Not a single sound of struggle or sign for help was heard over their channel, so whoever Yangyang followed knew what they were doing, almost a little too well. 

Johnny barely had the time to call Donghyuck in order to explain Yangyang’s situation before his phone rang.

༓࿇༓

Yangyang pulled his phone out from his backpack, thankfully unharmed. He waited for the telling beep, waiting for the click as he was transferred and sent to Johnny’s direct line.

“Yangyang?” Yangyang let out a hum of acknowledgement, “Yangyang! So help me God, I am going to murder you! Where the heck have you been? For all we knew you could’ve been laying dead in some side street.”

“About that, I’m gonna need an extraction asap, there’s someone we need to take in.”

“Who on earth do we need to take in? You aren’t _ supposed _ to be on mission Yangyang, you have _ no _ active missions, despite my direct orders that we were to be pulled from the mission.” There was a bite to Johnny’s words, clearly angry with Yangyang but apprehensive to show his true anger. 

“My coms got crushed, I promise you I tried to communicate with you telepathically.” Yangyang laughed dryly.

“That doesn’t excuse your behaviour Yangyang. I’m supposed to know where you are at all times. Do you have any _ idea _ of the trouble you could’ve been in? And I couldn’t help you?” Johnny let out a sound of exasperation.

“I found agent 0028.” Yangyang mumbled his words, clear enough for Johnny to hear but the nerves evident in his tone.

The line was silent, Johnny said nothing, only the sound of his breathing could be heard. 

“Well, I mean _ technically _, he found me rather than me finding him but that’s really not what’s important.”

Johnny let out an audible groan, “Haechan and I are on our way. You better have a good explanation for this, I don’t _ care _ about broken coms, you shouldn’t have gone off on your own when it was clear it was unsafe. I can’t believe I gave you permission for that. You better have the files we needed too. For fuck’s sake Yangyang, you’re in so much trouble.”

And there it was, the classic dad scolding, Johnny’s version of ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’. It was Johnny’s way of showing he cared, not that he’d ever tell anyone that. He was likely going to go grey prematurely because of Yangyang (and Donghyuck), but he loved the kids to death no matter how many times they went rogue and decided they were better than their own safety.

“Thanks Johnny.”

“ETA is fifteen minutes,” and with a final “God damnit, Yangyang” the line clicked off.

Yangyang turned, stared at the body slumped against the alleyway, and thought _ fuck, he looks kinda dead. _

_ **6 days ago: NCT headquarters, Berlin, 0800 hours** _

As Yangyang looked over the body, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was—even with his eyes closed, his beauty was entrancing. It pulled him away from mindlessly listening to whatever Seulgi and Donghyuck had been bickering about since before they’d even walked into the lab, Yeri greeting them with a friendly wave. 

The early morning sunlight filtered through the windows of the loft-turned-lab and cast over his sharp features. Yangyang hoped no one noticed the way he’d become absorbed by them, tracing the man's angelic features repeatedly. The metal case he’d been carrying lay flat on the floor by Yangyang’s feet. There was a face-sized dent in the side that had been there since earlier. Seulgi seemed to have clocked the damage but said nothing, simply raising her eyebrows when she caught Yangyang’s eye. 

Johnny, on the other hand, was well aware of Yangyang’s lacking combat skills (read, he had no idea how he passed his assessments) and easily took note of the briefcase Yangyang had been attempting to nudge out of sight with his foot. He let out a gentle laugh when he noticed Yangyang struggling, “How hard did you hit him, Yangyang? Sure you didn’t kill him?” 

“Don’t worry, pretty-boy here isn’t dead, at least not yet anyway,” Yeri said bluntly, pulling the latex gloves off and tossing them into the bin. “We checked him over and he’s just unconscious, we've given him something to sedate him for a little longer. Yangyang got him good but not _ that _ good thankfully,” she laughed light-heartedly, “I can assure you he’s still breathing, so no trips to the morgue today unfortunately.” Yangyang flinched a little at her last word but didn’t have the time to dwell on it now. Yeri had always scared him a little with her nonchalonce to death and violence in general but he couldn’t really be too surprised given their line of work. 

“It’s quite sad really, such a shame you had to take him out like that, you could’ve at least tried to give him a good punch, I swear my little sisters punch better than you do and they’re literal _ children _. His nose will fix up within a few days and he’ll be left with a couple bruises but no long-term injuries this time. Might want to brush up on your combat training with Joy though, Yangie. It’s not every day you have a bulletproof briefcase in hand to whack them round the head with.”

“Oh haha, very funny, Yeri.”

“That won’t be an option for much longer. We’re being relocated within the next week. I’m sure he’ll be able to work on them there, but he’ll probably end up spending more time in the lab than anywhere else.”

“What? Why are we leaving?”

“I don’t know the details, Yangyang, all I know is they wouldn’t move our team without a rightful reason. It’s not everyone anyway—only Donghyuckie and Jaehyun will be joining the two of us. We’ll be in Seoul before the month ends.” Johnny _ did _ know the details, Yangyang knew that much. But he knew when to keep quiet, to not ask questions, turning back to laugh faintly at another joke Yeri had made about his ever-failing combat prowess, a smile threatening to appear on Seulgi’s face at their antics.

Yangyang let out an audible sigh, feeling the guilt lift off his shoulders, “Well, thank _ fuck _ , don’t know how I would’ve coped with killing the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen.” _ Let alone someone I know goes unsaid. _

“Yeah, it’s _ totally _ not like he tried to kill you first or anything?”

“Shut up Hyuck, we all know how much you get distracted by pretty boys. Or, do I need to remind you about your first meeting with Jaehyun?”

“Oh bite me, Yangyang.”

“Come on.” Johnny claps his hands to get their attention like they’re children. “We should start packing. I don’t trust the two of you to not leave it until the last minute.”

Yangyang pauses for a moment, uttering a small thank you and a promise to catch up later with Yeri. His mind filled with thoughts as to _ why _, why is he back? Why did he try to kill Yangyang? Why did he risk everything?

“Seoul, here we come,” Donghyuck grumbles as he follows Johnny out the door, snapping Yangyang out of his daze.

༓࿇༓

It was a little after five in the morning when the plane finally took off, Donghyuck drooling on Yangyang’s shoulder as he mumbled in his sleep (something about _home_, despite the fact it hadn’t even been thirty minutes). When Yangyang looked up he could see Johnny and Jaehyun talking in hushed whispers across the aisle, and if Yangyang had been more awake he might’ve noticed that it looked like they were arguing over the files open on the table in front of them. But he doesn’t ask questions and simply waited for Johnny to wake them up when they arrived, drifting back off to sleep, Seoul waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments and kudos are always appreciated ♡ 
> 
> [ twitter ](https://mobile.twitter.com/luhenyangkun) // [ cc ](https://curiouscat.me/luhenyangkun) // [ Don't Call Me Angel character profiles ](https://twitter.com/luhenyangkun/status/1178271123433242624?s=20)


	3. sarcasm, it's an art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kun just prays no one else has 666 tattooed somewhere on their body like Ten probably does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been a while~ life got in the way. Hopefully I'll start to be more consistent for a little bit up until my exams. Thank you for your patience and to Anne for being wonderful (as always).

Seoul, current time - 1800 hours

Kun pushed the door of the conference room open, his business smile plastered on his face, a much needed attempt to hide his annoyance with Doyoung and Ten. A look of relief washed over Dejun while hurriedly bowing and uttering a hasty goodbye before darting out of the room. Taeyong was beaming as always from his position behind Kun—even Kun struggled to tell when he was faking it these days. He stepped up, bypassing Kun, to be the first to greet the new arrivals, rapidly introducing himself. Kun followed, shaking hands across the table with each of them, muttering polite ‘hello’s’ and ‘how are you’s’. Doyoung and Ten trailed after them, and Kun can’t help but notice how Ten looks like he’d rather listen to Mark talk about Star Trek for three hours than stay in this room any longer than he has to. And  _ no one _ wants to listen to Mark talk free-reign about Star Trek—he’s far too passionate about it for his own good, but who’s Kun to judge. 

(If anyone noticed Johnny’s gaze lingering on Taeyong, they didn't say anything.)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. We’re looking forward to working with you.” Kun’s voice was flat, formal and proper. Not a single waver to it, despite the way his knuckles were turning white as he squeezed his hands together. They were so tight in an effort to get them to stop shaking (noticeably at least).

“Thank you for having us. It’s an honour,  _ really _ , and of course it’s nice to be in Seoul after so long. I’m Johnny, and this is Yangyang and Donghyuck.” Each giving a brief, polite smile as their name was mentioned. Kun couldn’t tell whether they were more uncomfortable than they were bored. Their expressions are stern, unwavering as the others introduce themselves. It was somewhat unnerving to Kun but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, perhaps he’d become used to feeling on edge, with his line of work it’s rare to find someone who can stay calm at all times.

“Jaehyun is running late, had to stop by his new house before coming here. Issues with the landlady or something, he might not be able to make it this evening but he’s looking forward to meeting with you tomorrow.” Johnny spoke rapidly, fumbling over his words like he couldn’t get them out any quicker if he tried, and Yangyang seemed to be  _ trying  _ (read: failing miserably) to suppress a laugh, amused with the way Johnny actually looked nervous for once, lightning up a little and not looking as uncomfortable as Kun first thought. Kun overheard Yangyang whispering (badly) to Donghyuck some inappropriate joke about Johnny’s state and how he has a feeling it had something to do with the anime-lookalike Yangyang thinks is Taeyong.

“Oh, right. No problem. Do you have a preferred way of us addressing you? We don’t really use code names around here but I know they do things...  _ differently _ in Berlin.” (Kun tried not to sound as old as that probably made him sound, or as uneasy, like he was not used to the way things were done elsewhere, which in some aspects wasn’t exactly wrong—he just didn’t want to step on anyone's toes. Ten was always complaining that he could be ‘too nice’—whatever that meant).

“Johnny’s fine—preferred actually. Yangyang’s just Yangyang. Donghyuck is in a  _ phase _ of insisting on being called Haechan all the time but everyone sticks to Donghyuck when we’re not on mission.”

“Because it  _ is _ Haechan.”

“It’s not on your birth certificate Hyuck, therefore you’re Donghyuck. Aren’t you supposed to be over this—” Johnny vaguely gestured in Donghyuck’s general vicinity, “—this rebellious teenager _ phase _ ? You insist on being treated like an adult so act like it, and not some moody teenager,  _ Donghyuck _ .” Donghyuck was silent, as were the rest of them in the room (all watching on, Ten and Doyoung exchanging amused looks with one another), glaring at Johnny in some sort of weird staring contest based on who was going to back down first—clearly both of them expected it to be the other.

Kun’s uncomfortable. Frankly even Ten looks ready to dart out of the room at any given moment. It’s hard not to want that when it seems like there’s  _ so _ much more going on there than simple, parental bickering, and Kun hopes to god it doesn’t look like that to others whenever he snaps at Renjun or Yukhei. If it does, he really hopes he fixes it as soon as possible. He  _ knows _ Johnny means well—as does Kun—but Kun made a vow he would never take an authoritarian approach when he agreed to this job, and that’s a vow he would really like to keep.

“Well, this is awkward.” 

“Jesus, Ten.”

“What?”

“Didn’t we talk about using your filter?”

“I was just stating a fact.” Ten shrugged and smiled knowingly. He got far too much amusement out of pushing Kun. 

“Oh my  _ god _ , it’s not the time—”

Taeyong clapped his hands together once, the sound deafening in the room, snapping both Kun and Ten out of their bickering. “Are you done? We have things to do.”

“Sorry,” Kun said, grinning sheepishly and attempting to hide his embarrassment, “let’s give you the tour.” 

Kun led them out of the conference room, showing them around the offices and various rooms they probably would never have any reason to visit ever again. It went relatively well, aside from the occasional snide, snarky comment from either Donghyuck or Ten, and Kun already made  _ several _ silent prayers hoping he didn’t have to spend too much time with the two of them. Both were the devil incarnate, and Renjun and Ten were bad enough—Kun didn’t want to even  _ begin _ to imagine adding Donghyuck into that equation.

It wasn’t until Kun crammed them all into the lift down to the basement that he caught Johnny trying to make small talk with Taeyong. He watched him fail miserably as he continued to stutter his way through simple sentences like he’d forgotten how to speak Korean or something. Ten seemed occupied enough speaking to Yangyang in a mix of Chinese and English, so Kun made another prayer that Yangyang didn’t turn out to have a 666 tattooed on him somewhere too. Willingly conversing with Ten was never a good sign, and the grin on Ten’s face as he spoke sent a bout of suspicion through Kun. Seeing Ten in general made Kun’s blood pressure spike, never knowing what he’d do or say next. Ten being amused outside of hand-to-hand combat (especially when getting to punch someone in the face) was an automatic cause for concern.

They stepped out into the large open space where there was obnoxiously loud music playing from the gym. Kun didn’t need to look to know it was Lucas putting all his energy into belting out Red Velvet’s entire discography while he worked out. Mark argued that Lucas’ actual workout was the fact that he’d perfected every Red Velvet choreography—treadmill approved versions (a shame for Ten’s instagram story but still entertaining nonetheless).

“Who’s the greek god lookalike over there?” Donghyuck asked, having been distracted for the past five minutes (at least), looking him up and down and paying special attention to his upper body. His gaze lingering on each dip and curve of Yukhei’s chest, committing every sharp line to memory. Not that anyone could really blame Donghyuck. Lucas had been lifting weights in all his shirtless glory, muscles flexing with each movement, and it had completely and utterly entranced Donghyuck. (And he certainly wasn’t the first one to take time to appreciate Lucas’ appearance—Lucas had a habit of turning heads wherever he went).

Lucas ran his hands through his soaked hair, biceps on full-display. Donghyuck couldn’t take his eyes off the way beads of sweat weaved their way down his toned body, running over his abs— _ oh _ , how Donghyuck would like to run his hands over those. 

“Ah, that would be Lucas,” Kun said. “He’s one of our combat trainers, mainly for the rookies, though, and quartermasters. He spends more time in his lab these days rather than out in the field. He’s been vital in the development of our latest technology.” Kun barely took a breath as he spoke, t here was a proud, fond look on his face as he spoke, easily slipping into business-talk like it was second nature—which it arguably was for him these days–but his pride shone through all the same. “ He was behind our newest mapping system along with another of our IT specialists, Renjun.” There was a childish grin on Donghyuck’s face, “Carved by God  _ and _ blessed with brains, what's not to like?”

Lucas was tall, had one of the most endearing smiles to grace the earth and was (apparently, Donghyuck had yet to witness it) funny—the whole package. Everyone seemed to be drawn to him like a magnet within an instant, and even Kun seemed charmed by his antics with ease. In all fairness, it was easy to see where Donghyuck was coming from, workplace appropriate  _ or not _ . Lucas exuded a different kind of aura than most, one minute he looked like he could snap your neck without so much as blinking and the next he would be smiling (usually down) at you, looking like a child on Christmas morning. Or an excitable puppy.

Kun always had a soft spot for him, not that he’d be caught dead admitting it. Lucas was used to being sought out as the ideal training partner for combat, but he’d come to hate it, too afraid of genuinely hurting someone—whether he intended to do so or not. Instead, he preferred to stay in his lab and only run combat training sessions for the rookie agents rather than taking a hands-on role. Kun had taken him out of commission a few weeks ago, deciding he was no longer fit for field work. Kun wasn’t surprised—Lucas didn’t have the same cold heart most of the others, including himself, did around here.

Johnny rolled his eyes, “Donghyuck, you’re here to work, remember? Not to ogle other agents.” He turned to Kun, “I apologise for his behaviour, he’s a little…” The wording was lost on Johnny’s tongue. Instead, he made some vague hand gestures in the hope the motion would miraculously help him remember or something.

“Lacking a filter?” Kun offered, smiling slightly when Johnny gave an enthusiastic nod of his head. “No worries, we have a few of those around.” Kun smiled politely at Johnny before flashing a stern glare at Ten, who simply shrugged and gave him a teasing smirk in response.

“See,  _ hyung _ ,” Donghyuck said, voice sickly-sweet and dripping with sarcasm at the use of the honorific, “nothing wrong with having a little fun. You never know how long we’ll be here for.”

Kun decided to ignore the weight behind Donghyuck’s sentence. After all, it’s apparently above  _ his  _ pay grade to get access to the younger’s file—and if Kun had learnt anything over the years, those sorts of things always mean trouble. Trouble he doesn’t want to be involved with and prefers to stay as far away from as possible. The kind of trouble that’s locked away for a reason.

“I wouldn’t go there in particular if I were you, Donghyuck.”

“And why is that,  _ Ten _ ?” The name felt cold coming off Donghyuck’s tongue, cold and unfamiliar. It unsettled Ten ever so slightly. 

“Our little Yukhei is spoken for, and believe me when I say you don’t want to mess with Renjun.”

“Yukhei and Renjun? Since when?” Kun asked, brows furrowed slightly in confusion. Ten sighed, the elder had always been a little slow on keeping up with office gossip—despite having Jungwoo as his receptionist. 

“Nothings official yet, but it may as well be. They’ve been dancing around each other for months, Renjun finally seems to be giving in to Yukhei’s ridiculous flirting attempts. You’ve got to give it to him, though, He sure is persistent, and Renjun isn’t as cold as he makes out to be.”

“So what you mean there,  _ Ten, _ is that they aren’t official, so  _ technically  _ speaking he’s still single?” 

Donghyuck had been too busy enjoying his fun to notice Renjun (a stranger to their company so far), seething at him from across the room. (Kun didn’t want to know how many different ways Renjun had already thought of to provide Donghyuck with an excruciatingly slow and painful death.) Let alone the way Yukhei had been pretending not to notice the way Donghyuck had been blatantly checking him out. He instead smiled fondly at aforementioned seething Renjun, too caught up in his daydreams to notice the way Renjun’s expression shifted to one of disgust as he all-but marched over to stand in front of Donghyuck. 

“No, he’s not available.” 

Doyoung, who had been too busy tapping away on his phone for the entirety of the ‘tour’ managed to pull his gaze from his phone to look up at the sudden tension filling the room. 

“Ah, let me guess, you must be—” Donghyuck paused, thinking for a moment then clicking his fingers, a bright grin forming, “ _ Renjun _ ? The techie, right?” There was an unnerving look on his face, all too pleased with himself at whatever it was he had been currently thinking.

“I am. Xuxi isn’t available.”

“Oh? Is that a pet-name? It’s cute.” 

Renjun raised an eyebrow at the question, like Donghyuck should have known better, should know not to question it, part of him looked offended but Kun knew better. Renjun was just trying (and failing) to hide his protectiveness over Yukhei.

“Lucas, Yukhei, whatever. And no, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Now, now boys. The two of you will be working together so let's take it easy shall we?” Johnny looked worried, attempting to subtly grab the back of Donghyuck’s shirt in case he decided to lunge at someone or something. 

“I take it your stance on me murdering someone because they’re  _ stupid _ and  _ annoying _ , hasn’t changed, Kun?”

Kun rolled his eyes out of frustration, “No, Renjun, my stance on unpresedented murder  _ hasn’t  _ changed since the last time you asked.”

Donghyuck reached out of Johnny’s grip to place a hand on Renjun’s shoulder, “No worries Renjunnie, I’ll let you have the giant puppy all to yourself, buddy.”

“Touch me again and I’ll break your fucking neck,  _ buddy _ .”

Yangyang, who had also remained shockingly silent throughout the hour they’ve been together let out a dry laugh. “Oh  _ boy _ , this is going to be fun.”

The grin is wiped off his face when Johnny slaps him on the back of the head, muttering reprimands under his breath, frantically apologising to Kun and asking him to continue with the tour. 

The rest of their so-called tour went off without a hitch, not including Ten and Yangyang’s snarky comments every now and then (all of which happened to be not-so under their breath). Kun knew it would be fine, he knew everything would work out in the end. He knew that whatever animosity there was will dissolve eventually, but he dreaded the time it would take all the same.

Johnny was clearly a rule follower, unlike Ten who found every single loophole imaginable (and then some) that he could. Yangyang was rambunctious, snarky, ready-for-anything, even if it got him killed type, and Kun  _ knew  _ it would land him in trouble more than once. Donghyuck (Haechan, his brain supplies), was rebellious, too intelligent for his own good, not unlike a lot of the agents Kun oversaw.

There was something about Donghyuck, something that made him think of what he could do, something that made Kun think of those that came before him.

_ Something that made him think of those they lost. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved multiple, lengthy scenes into the next chapter(s) which is why this one is so much shorter (especially in comparison to the last), hopefully the next few will get the wc up again. This is very much a filler chapter and I will say I don't like it very much because of that, especially in comparison to the last chapter. The 'action' and plot will pick up again in the coming chapters, this one was necessary as a bridge- thank you for your understanding and sticking with me ^^
> 
> Thank you for reading, comments and kudos are always appreciated ♡
> 
> [ twitter ](https://mobile.twitter.com/luhenyangkun) // [ cc ](https://curiouscat.me/luhenyangkun) // [ Don't Call Me Angel character profiles ](https://twitter.com/luhenyangkun/status/1178271123433242624?s=20)

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thank you to Anne for being the most wonderful beta and putting up with my awful grammar and massive plot holes and general confusion *mwah*  
Come scream at me on [ curious cat ](https://curiouscat.me/luhenyangkun)  
or on twitter - it's up to you (:  
Character profiles and updates: [ DCMA ](https://twitter.com/luhenyangkun/status/1178271123433242624?s=20) -> have the random thread I made for some extra details to add to the fic (:  
I hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave comments + kudos - they are much appreciated (:  
*There is no update schedule for this fic, I am writing as I go so chapters come as and when they're finished in between my delightful school hours and general unpredictable life events


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